


Engineers

by NebulousMistress



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Engineers being Engineers, Gen, Post-Series, SCIENCE!, atlantis on earth, dubious law-breaking, mention of drugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-07-25 17:02:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7540756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NebulousMistress/pseuds/NebulousMistress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Atlantis is too nice, too clean, too normal. And there's a great industrial blight right there! How is an engineer to resist?  Think of the salvage...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Plot

**Author's Note:**

> Just because an engineer grows up doesn't mean they stop being that nerdy student lurking in industrial parks, picking through dumpsters, showing off this great pipe they found...

The San Francisco skyline drifted across the field of view as Atlantis slowly succumbed to the ocean's currents. It was a beautiful sight, lit and glowing under the starless night. The city stretched off forever in all directions, east into Oakland, south into San Jose, a sprawling beast of lights and sound and life broken by the blackness of the water and the loom of hills.

It struck Radek Zelenka as odd that this city, the one outside the confines of the cloak, seemed more inviting, more ethereal than the alien city of wonders in which he dwelt.

Maybe he'd been here too long. The city of Atlantis was too clean, too ordered, too familiar to hold the same attraction it once had. Of course there were labs to discover, secrets to unveil, dangers to combat, corridors to drain, and the database to translate but it wasn't the same. He missed the chaos, the filth, the dregs of industrialized society clinging to his hands as he dove headlong into that morass to find the beauty so carelessly discarded. He missed the thrill of almost getting caught, the silence of the night, the glow of the streetlamps, the shout of a security guard.

He was an engineer and with that, or perhaps because of that, came certain drives.

He needed to get out of Atlantis, if only for one night.

He needed it.

*****

Zelenka found McKay burying himself in his work. Badly. The figures were all wrong, the writing was slipshod, the penmanship was ass, and the man himself was staring unseeing at the board, uncaring as to what he wrote.

McKay barely even noticed when Zelenka picked up the whiteboard eraser and started wiping the evidence away.

“I was working on that,” McKay said, snapping without vitriol.

“You are distracted,” Radek said. “As am I. Is no good to ignore it.”

Rodney pulled up a chair and dropped heavily into it. “It's this... we're on Earth and we still can't leave. The IOA isn't letting Atlantis leave, we're not allowed to leave Atlantis, Silicon Valley is _right there_ and all I can do is look.”

“I know,” Radek said. “Is getting to me, too.”

“This can't go on. I'm a physicist, I shouldn't be like this.”

Radek laughed. “You are more than,” he said. “You have entire PhD in engineering. You are remembering that, I think.”

“I remember...” Rodney sighed. “When I was a kid I used to find things and take them apart just to... You know that bomb I built? Entirely out of junk I found. People just threw it all away! And I got put on so many watch lists as a damned kid for taking this stuff and turning it into...”

“I built radios out of tin foil, glass, wires, and a fork,” Radek said. "I used to listen to Cosmonauts in orbit and dream of being one."

“That's... not bad,” Rodney admitted.

They both looked out the window to the lights slowly drifting by. “We have got to get over there,” Radek sighed.

Rodney nodded. “But first... we need a plan.”

*****

In a darkened storage room, in the bowels of the city where surveillance was never laid and the radios barely reached, the conspirators met.

Dr. Radek Zelenka, head of engineering.

Dr. Rodney McKay, head of research.

Dr. Peter Rowan, chemist and local pirate.

Dr. Rebecca West, genetic engineer.

Dr. Lionel Hedgewick, structural engineer.

Dr. Robert Fitz, mechanical engineer.

And Dr. Elizabeth Lee, software engineer.

“We all know why we're here,” Rodney said.

“Yeah, except him,” Dr. West said, pointing to Pirate Pete.

“He grew up around here,” Radek defended. “He knows area.”

“I went to grad school around here,” Pete corrected. “I worked around here. I didn't grow up here.”

“You may have been physical adult but by your talk you were growing up here,” Radek insisted, glaring Pete into silence.

“So what's the plan?” Dr. Lee asked. “How are we going to get over there? Once we're over there how are we getting around? Once we get around how are we gonna carry stuff? Once we have stuff how do we get it back here? On top of it all, how do we avoid being seen?”

“By any side,” Dr. Fitz added. “We want to avoid being seen by anyone. No cops, no air force, no locals, and sure as hell no Sheppard and no Woolsey.”

“We head over during the day,” Pete suggested. “The BART runs through all the best areas, we ride the train for a while to get a feel for our marks. That night we... will need transportation. Something we can use to haul our gains.”

“Can't we just borrow car?” Radek asked.

Rodney groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don't know what's worse, the fact that you just suggested we steal a car or the fact that I agree with it.”

“Not steal, borrow,” Radek defended. “We put it back once done.”

“Yeah, covered in fingerprints,” Dr. Hedgewick drawled.

“Do you have file?” Radek asked.

“I do,” Pete said.

“Shit,” Rodney swore. “Well, that's out.”

“Who here actually remembers their bank and shit?” Dr Fitz asked.

Rodney raised his hand. The others gave him a confused look. “What?” he asked. “I have a seven year old niece. I have to engage in actual commerce. And I'm not buying us a car. Too easy to trace, too much bullshit.”

“If I remember correctly, there's a police auction the last wednesday of every month,” Pete suggested. “They have cars there. It's just pay cash and go. They'll see us but they won't notice us, not unless we do something stupid.”

“We could _Star Trek 4_ it,” Dr. West said. “Cloak a jumper, leave it in the park, acquire cash, acquire transportation, acquire loot, profit.”

“But how are we getting jumper out of the bay?” Radek asked. “Military has tight hold over departures.”

“Only above the water line,” Rodney said. “We'll use the underwater jumper bay. There's still one down there.”

“But is it repaired?”

“Everything but weapons,” Rodney said, grinning.

Radek sat back, grinning madly. “We have plan.”

*****

Twenty-four hours of leave time were asked for and approved of for each conspirator. Of course, since Rodney and Radek were the ones doing the approvals that made it easier. It was their own time off that proved harder to ensure.

“Hey, Rodney.”

Rodney looked up from his lunch and scootched over, letting Sheppard take the empty spot at the table.

Sheppard sat down and sprawled out. Rodney rolled his eyes and gently shoved back, embroiling them in a quick, quiet shoving match until Sheppard finally sat like a civilized person.

“What's up?” Rodney asked.

“You remember that thing, right?” Sheppard asked.

Rodney gave him a look and took a big bite of his sandwich.

“You know, the thing.”

Rodney chewed slowly, not looking away from Sheppard's face as he glared with disinterest. He swallowed with a deep rattle.

“All right, the whole game thing,” Sheppard said. “Lorne and a few others hit the mainland, wait, sorry, they hit the city last week and bought out a GameStop. They're getting the Xbox Circle, or whatever it's called and--”

“The Xbox 360,” Rodney supplied.

“That's the one,” Sheppard said. “Well, day after tomorrow they want to start a military versus scientist league, though how they're gonna do that for the game they've decided on I have no idea.”

“Day after tomorrow,” Rodney said. Wait, what day was today? It was near the end of the month, wasn't it?

“Exactly.”

“Would that be... tuesday?”

“Wednesday,” Sheppard corrected.

“Shit,” Rodney realized. “I can't, Sheppard, I've got this thing on Wednesday.”

“This 'thing...'”

“Yes, shut up, this 'thing',” Rodney said. “I won't be available at all.”

“Not even for good sci-fi?” Sheppard tempted. “They all decided on this game called 'Mass Effect'.”

“Not available,” Rodney reiterated.

“Really.”

Rodney looked down at his half-finished lunch. It appeared he would have to leave it half-finished as he got up. “Yes, really,” he said. “I'm busy. I have shit to do.” He left.

It wasn't fleeing, it was a strategic escape.

*****

Tuesday night began with the slow collapse of the day shift. Earth was making them all lazy, conditioning them back into a simple day-night cycle uninterrupted by emergency. The night guards yawned as they stood in increasing slouches, the night shift stared unseeing at screens and boards. Night patrols were few and far between, inattentive as they paced to keep themselves awake.

The conspirators were wide awake, hopped up on caffeine, on the thrill of their raid, and on the simple fact that as scientists they refused to bow to darkness simply because sane people were asleep.

When that wore off, Pete had a few creations in his bag. And this time he wouldn't need to commandeer an Ensign to be his barker.

Pete had to hold in his laughter at the memory of one of the three-day battles on Atlantis, his barker standing next to his makeshift booth shouting 'Combat drugs! Get yer combat drugs!' while a line of marines curved next to a shouting, swearing Colonel whats-his-name.

“Hey, shut up,” Dr. West hissed, elbowing him.

“Sorry,” Pete said.

“We're almost there,” Dr. Fitz said. He pointed to the transporter at the end of the hall.

A single marine stood guard, one hand on his stunner.

“Great, how are we getting past that?” West asked.

Radek snuck up behind the scientists. “What's... oh...”

Pete jolted. “Holy hell how did you--” He shut up as Dr. West slammed her hand over his mouth.

“That's not hard,” Radek said. “All of you, be quiet and be ready to move.”

“What's he gonna do?” West asked.

“Hey, shut up,” Fitz snapped.

“You shut up.”

“Both of you shut up,” Pete hissed.

Radek glared at the lot of them until they quieted down. Then he moved, sticking to shadows the others didn't even realize were there. He stopped moving as he reached a decorative plant, not more than twenty feet from the tired marine. Radek put his hands to his mouth and...

“The fuck?” the marine asked. He could have sworn he heard a bird somewhere behind him. But how could a bird get in here?

Radek threw his voice again, making pigeon calls and coos.

The marine wandered off, looking for the bird.

Radek waved the group to the transporter, throwing his voice one last time before joining them.

The door closed.

They were at the underwater bay. The unguarded underwater bay.

“How the hell did you do that?” Dr. West asked.

“I raised pigeons before, well, before,” Radek said. “Also, learned throwing voice in Soviet military.”

“You were Soviet?” Pete asked.

“Not long,” Radek said. “Five years mandatory service.”

“Holy shit,” Pete swore.

“Are you really telling them about your time in the Soviet Army?” Rodney demanded. He was fiddling with the crystals of the open and waiting jumper.

“It got us past guard,” Radek shrugged.

“Fair enough,” Rodney admitted. “Welp, the jumper's all ready to go, Lizzy here has a program that should spoof the control tower into ignoring us, I've got all the papers we'll, well, **I'll** need, the tower staff have a scheduled break in ten minutes, we're all set.”

“Everybody have normal clothes?” Pete asked.

He cringed as people pulled from bags and duffels what they considered 'normal'. “Nevermind,” he said, sighing deeply. “Just... wear what you're all wearing.”

They all wore the blue shirts designating their department, black BDU pants, and combat boots.

“We look like a gang,” Rodney admitted.

“It's better than Lionel's band shirt with more holes than fabric,” Pete said. “We're trying to be inconspicuous but we also need to look decent. Police auctions are run by police and they're not military, they will ignore little things like 'rights' if you stand out. Especially since I have no doubt at least half of us don't have IDs.”

“Should we?” Radek asked.

“Point,” Rodney allowed. The ship's chronometer beeped. “All right, it's time. Now or never.”

A chorus of 'now's answered him as Rodney activated the cloak and eased the jumper out into the water toward the city.

 


	2. Preparation

Dawn rose. Sunlight streamed in through the window of the jumper, rousing the sleeping scientists.

All but one.

Dr. Fitz took one look at the strange man in their midst who mucked about in their supplies. “Dammit, Pete, don't you sleep?”

“I slept yesterday,” Pete defended, still looking for... ha! He found the roll of bills tucked away in his duffel. “My favorite denomination, a wad.”

“There is something wrong with you,” Fitz insisted.

“Oh, I know,” Pete said easily. “I sleep like one day out of three but it works so why mess with it?”

Fitz pulled a t-shirt over his head and tried to go back to sleep.

“Okay, everyone, rise and shine!”

Fitz glared at Rodney. “And since when are you happy in the morning?” he demanded.

“Since we can get good coffee,” Radek slurred, barely awake. “At least there better be coffee, McKay, or I will hurt you...”

“There will be coffee, we just have to get everyone out of here first,” Rodney insisted.

The jumper opened to Golden Gate Park. The trees were oddly pitiful, the grass was ill kept and brown in patches, a scuzzy guy watched in disbelief as seven scientists walked out of thin air.

“Everyone remember where we parked,” said Dr. West in her best Captain Kirk impression. She was rewarded with groans and one smack upside the head.

Pete waved at the man in the bushes as they walked past. The man waved back, eyes wide and frightened.

“To coffee!” Rodney insisted.

They found themselves in a small coffee shop surrounded by too many voices and too little space. The table was meant to barely seat four people and yet somehow the seven of them were clustered around it, empty and nearly empty cups cluttering the tiny area.

“We need more,” Radek realized, looking at the carnage already inflicted.

“I agree. Barkeep, another round,” Rodney demanded, his hand raised.

The baristas behind the counter merely looked at him oddly before going back to their work.

“You've been offworld too many times,” Dr. West said.

“You can't say that here,” Dr. Fitz hissed.

“Fine,” Dr. West said. She drew herself up and repeated her statement, sanitized for eavesdropping ears. “Dr. McKay, you've been in the field for way too damn long.”

“Why aren't they...” Rodney wondered, getting annoyed.

“Oh for crying out loud,” Radek said, grumbling. He grabbed Rodney's credit card and went to the counter. “Seven coffee, largest size. Thank you.”

They left the shop with their coffees. “What's the plan?” Pete asked.

“You lived here, I thought you came up with the plan!” Rodney shouted.

“Sorry, sorry, fine, I'll come up with a plan,” Pete said. “Rodney, you, Radek, and Robert head to the police auction. They should have listings of all the stuff. If nothing looks good give us a call. Our radios should work so long as we're not in the tunnel.”

“There's a tunnel?” Dr. Hedgewick asked.

“Runs under the bay,” Pete said. “Becomes the subway on this side. Lionel, you and Elizabeth take the BART south. Rebecca, you and I'll head north. Rodney, we'll all need at least $40 each. Cash.”

Rodney grumbled and fished in his wallet for his cards. One of them had a bank logo on it that looked like that bank over there. “All right, let's get enough cash and get this show on the road. Tonight had better be worth it, that's all I'm saying...” Rodney's grumbling followed him to the building and inside.

*****

An hour later the lot of them were still standing outside the bank. Rodney had not yet come out.

“If he is getting himself arrested, we are going home,” Radek drawled.

“And who's gonna fly?” Dr. Fitz asked. “You? None of us have the gene.”

“I cannot believe he is our ride,” Radek said.

“Excuse me.”

The scientists all jumped. “Shit,” Pete said. “Act natural.”

“How?” Dr. Hedgewick demanded.

“Shut up.” Pete turned toward the police officer approaching them. “Yes, Officer, what can I do for you?”

“Nice eyepatch,” the cop said.

“Thanks.”

“There's no loitering here, you people need to leave.”

“Oh, well, I'm sorry but we're waiting for someone,” Pete said.

“I see,” said the cop, looking unimpressed. “And where is this 'someone'?”

“He said he had something to do in the bank awhile ago,” Pete explained. “He should be out any minute.”

“Well then you can wait elsewhere.”

Just then the bank door opened and Rodney stormed out with a scowl and a large manila envelope.

“And here he is,” Pete said, raising a hand to get Rodney's attention.

Rodney glanced from Pete to the cop, annoyance clearly written on his face. “I'm gone for five minutes and you're already getting arrested?” he demanded.

“If by 'five minutes' you mean 'an hour' and by 'arrested' you mean 'told to move along' then yes,” Pete said with a long-suffering sigh. He rolled his eye and grinned at the cop.

The officer nodded and took a step back.

“Ugh, you'd think we'd bring coats or something,” Rodney said as he mimed putting the envelope in a coat pocket. Instead he had to stuff it in a pocket of his BDUs. “And that was a nightmare! The bullshit I had to remember just to access my own money. How the hell was I supposed to remember I have property outside Vegas?”

“You own property?” Radek asked.

“Well, yeah, a few of us needed someplace to stay near Area...” Rodney glanced nervously at the cop who seemed only marginally interested in their conversation. “Near the base. There was this apartment building for sale cheap and I figured, well...”

Fitz snorted. “Wait, you're a slumlord?”

“I am not.”

“An inattentive slumlord,” Dr. Hedgewick said, grinning. “After all, it's not like people can call him.”

“Look, shut up,” Rodney snapped. “Let's move out so we can get started.”

*****

The police auction was just starting when they found the address. The items for auction were the oddest array of seized and surrendered items, from street racing cars to junky pickup trucks, from engine parts to old lamps, from bits and pieces to odds and ends. Nothing for sale was illegal, though some of the souped-up street racers skirted that legality.

Wide eyes looked around at all the great stuff. Rodney wondered if it wouldn't be worth it to just dump the entire $8,000 he'd pulled on stuff here and then return to Atlantis. At least then they'd have acquired it all through proper, if odd, channels.

But it wouldn't be the same. They had a plan, sort of, and they were going to follow it, dammit. And maybe drop too much money on this great junk.

Like...

Rodney took one look and fell in love.

“Hey, come check this out,” he said, trying to get the other's attention.

It was no use. They were equally enamored with their own finds, treating the police auction like an off-world market. Radek kept trying to haggle even as the officer he spoke to looked at him weird. Dr. West had her eye on some strange dead animals in jars and was trying to talk someone into a barter. Even Pirate Pete wasn't immune, drooling over a set of assorted glassware that likely came from a meth lab.

Rodney rolled his eyes. That glassware would go right from one drug lab to another.

The item he wanted went on the auction block. He immediately bid.

He was the only bidder.

Perfect.

Grinning broadly, Rodney collected his wayward scientists one by one before the item was wheeled out. “Everybody, I bought our transportation,” he announced.

It was a large white van, its side panels graffitied over with anti-government propaganda written in black sharpie. It was missing two rows of seats, the internal carpet had been ripped away, the inside still smelled faintly of pot, and...

“It doesn't run.”

Rodney looked up from the paperwork at the cop who'd spoken, a Sergeant Cooper. “Oh that's no problem,” Rodney said.

Radek gaped at him and went on a long rant on Czech.

Rodney caught something about windows and goat fucking and their plans.

“Is he...” Cooper trailed off.

“He works with me,” Rodney said dismissively. He pulled out his military ID, a perk of being a civilian contractor. “It's an international project. Now then... How long do we have to get this thing running?”

Cooper was about to say something rude but he glanced at the Air Force ID again before biting it back. “Technically you're supposed to have it out of here as soon as the paperwork's finished,” he said. “Running or not.”

“Hmm...” Rodney looked the van over, glanced at the stuff around at the auction, then at his companions. “I bet we can't get this thing running in an hour,” he challenged.

“Bet what?” Cooper asked, suspicious.

“Lunch.”

Cooper's suspicions were still raised. This was a group of seven people, all with a really weird tonal note underneath their accents, all wearing blue shirts and what looked like military fatigues. One guy even had an eyepatch. There was no way they could get it done. “Lunch for the whole station,” Cooper said.

“Versus lunch for my group,” Rodney said. “Done.” He turned around and rejoined the group. “All right, people, we have one hour to get this hulk running.”

Cooper watched with amusement as the swearing and scattering began. Even if they made it, the sight would be entertaining.

*****

Within five minutes Rodney had acquired tools and parts from the auction around them and work had begun. The engine itself was sound, the oil was low but marginally okay, much of the wiring was shot, the fuel regulator had been disconnected, and the gas tank was essentially empty.

According to Pete it wasn't even normal octane. Didn't smell like it, smelled like whiskey. Really bad whiskey.

Dr. Lee got under the van, its engine being too simple to need reprogramming, and found an odd box. She poked at it, opened it to find a circuit board and a GPS antenna. She pulled it off and handed it to Radek who was grumbling about the wiring and lack of spare parts. The grumbling stopped as he disassembled the GPS tracker and used it to rewire the fuse box.

Rodney found himself elbow-deep in the engine, tightening loose bolts and replacing things like spark plugs and the air filter. The carburetor seemed a little odd, the idle holes having been drilled out to allow more fuel into the mix. He called Pete over.

“Hey, you know fuels,” Rodney said. “Why would you drill out the idle holes?”

Pete grinned. Suddenly the fuel smell made sense. “They altered the engine to run on bathtub gin,” he said. He looked closer into the engine, shining a penlight into crevasses. “We can probably keep this thing running on a 60/40 mix with octane. Good, you got us some platinum plugs. And we can't rely on the transmission, you'll have to idle manually. That might be why the cops couldn't keep this thing going, they used straight octane. Flooded it.”

“Well then we need to drain the engine,” Rodney said.

“And get someone with an ID down to a liquor store for some of the strong clear shit. Cheapest, strongest vodka.”

“I might be the only one...”

“Crap,” Pete said. “Oh well.” He walked up next to the gas tank and pulled a flask of Zelenka's worst from the pockets of his BDUs. “This should last us a little bit.” He poured the contents into the tank.

Rodney drained the carburetor. Everyone finished up and stepped away from what they were doing.

“Five minutes,” Cooper yelled.

Rodney smirked at him and slid into the driver's seat. He turned the key.

A-fit-dit-dit-dit.

A-fit-dit-dit-dit.

And then it roared to life, immediately settling into a low rumbling purr.

*****

“I thought we were splitting up?” Pete asked.

“We can split up after lunch,” Rodney said, mouth full. “Food first.”

They were sitting around the precinct break room, boxes from a local pizzeria around them. Sergeant Cooper had come through in spades. It may have had something to do with the small crowd of uniformed onlookers they'd finally noticed once the van was running. Surely engineers weren't so rare here that their feat was odd?

“So what's the new plan?” Hedgewick asked. “You can't just eat all day.”

“Watch me,” Rodney said, delight clear on his face as he licked oil and sauce from his fingers.

“We'd rather not,” Radek said. “Is like when the Marines were playing 'Eat That Thing'.”

“Oh God, I remember that,” Fitz said, dropping a pizza crust on his plate. “What finally ended it?”

“Rodney and Ronon got involved,” Dr. Lee said. “Suddenly it wasn't fun anymore. No one was gonna beat those two. Maybe if they were competing but on the same team? Not even fun to watch.”

Pete rolled his eye. “All right, we're wasting time.” And he was worried someone might say more than they should. “Dr. McKay, we should get moving.”

Finally they were able to get a grumbling McKay away from the food. The plan still involved splitting up, though now the van was put on the hunt for proper fuel. The cheapest, strongest, shittiest vodka they could find.

The van handled worst than a puddlejumper, much worse. Maybe it had to do with the bad springs they hadn't been able to replace. Maybe it was the poor turning radius or low steering fluid. Maybe it was just that after five years in Pegasus Rodney had forgotten how to drive.

*****

Hedgewick and Lee stared out the window. The BART train ran smooth, was somewhat clean, and smelled mostly of air conditioning. It also tended to run through industrial and low-rent districts.

“Oh, look, Traids,” Lee said absently.

“Wait, what?” Hedgewick asked nervously.

Lee pointed out the window as the train passed through a residential area at 70 mph. In the distance, not more than a quarter mile from the tracks, a single house stood apart from the rest. It was well kept, beautifully decorated, and very secure-looking.

“Are you sure?” Hedgewick asked. “Wait, are they bad?”

Lee shrugged. “They're organized crime,” she admitted. “Nothing for us to worry about. At least, I don't think so. Unless Dr. McKay bought something of theirs...”

“Like a drug-running van,” Hedgewick realized.

“We'll be careful,” Lee said as the train turned around a brick-facade factory building. The red enamel dragons with their gold trim disappeared from view.

 


	3. The Heist

Night fell.

Rodney pulled into the BART Station parking lot, trying to maneuver the curbs and lanes. He kept glancing up, looking for the jumper's HUD to tell him location, speed, surroundings, all things he should be able to determine with the mirrors and the dashboard.

“You... are a shit driver, McKay,” Fitz said.

Rodney tried to park, instead taking up two spots. “I haven't done this for a few years,” Rodney defended. “Besides, it's not like you brought your license.”

“I did,” Fitz said. “It's just... expired.”

“He is better at driving than flying,” Radek grumbled from the back of the van.

“Hey! Don't make me turn this jumper around,” Rodney threatened.

“We're not in jumper,” Radek said.

Rodney glared at him through the rear view mirror. “Shut up.”

“Oh so you can use mirrors if we insult you,” Radek snapped. “Good to know.”

“Look, would you rather drive?” Rodney said.

“Forgot how,” Radek said. “And at least I am man enough to admit.”

The side door opened. Pirate Pete grinned as he saw the six gallons of really bad vodka stacked in the back like a fertilizer bomb. “I see we have fuel,” he said.

Dr. West climbed in behind him. “Hey, booze.”

“No drinking in van,” Radek threatened. “Anything good?”

Pete shook his head. “After Oakland there isn't a whole lot of useful. I mean, Richmond has the refinery but that's not our goal here. Besides, I'd rather get my dangerous chemicals from the Genii so I know they're real.”

“Makes sense,” Rodney allowed. “I expect the good stuff to be down in San Jose.”

“We need to be careful there,” Pete said. “The sense of entitlement is an actual force. Got hit by a car there once. The moron was looking right at me and he had the audacity to be pissed at me for getting in his way! As though I should dive off the sidewalk so he could drive on it at his leisure.”

“Wait, you were on sidewalk?” Radek asked.

“Yep,” Pete said.

The side door opened again.

“Oakland is owned by Triads,” Dr. Lee announced.

“Well, that's an announcement,” West said. “Any idea what they're up to?”

Dr. Hedgewick shook his head.

“A boss's house is visible from the tracks,” Lee said. “Shouldn't be a problem.”

“Unless we have their van,” Hedgewick said.

“Unlikely,” Rodney said. “It's too obvious. No, this one was owned by an independent. Probably already in jail.”

“And how do you know?” West asked. “Unless I'm right and the ATA gene is totally related to ESP.”

“That's a stupid theory and you know it,” Rodney scoffed. “No such thing as ESP.”

“Says the man who almost ascended and could read everyone's mind,” West snapped.

“Look, shut up, we're all here,” Fitz said. “I say we hold that discussion for later when we're getting paid to do it.”

“Or never,” Rodney grumbled.

“You know Colonel Sheppard reads tarot, right? Really well?” Lee said.

“Really?” Rodney sounded far too excited about that.

“No!”

Rodney sneered at the chorus of 'no's. He would get them all for that...

*****

They stopped at a medical supply store for lab coats. It just felt right as they swung past the jumper to make sure it was still there and to pick up a few things.

“What the hell, McKay?” Fitz asked.

“What?” McKay looked up from where he was buckling on his thigh holster, a Wraith stunner in the pocket.

“You raided the armory?” Lee demanded. “Are you trying to get us all in trouble?”

“This isn't from the armory,” McKay insisted. “It's mine. Looted it myself on the superhive.”

“Ah, battlefield looting,” Zelenka said, sounding wistful. “Is time-honored tradition.”

“Arrr,” Pete agreed.

“You looted it from...” West threw her hands up in exasperation. “You, Dr. McKay, have spent far too much time offworld. It's warped your mind.”

“It's warped your voice,” Zelenka agreed. “You have picked up gate accent. We all have, I admit, but yours is worst.”

McKay refused to look insulted, instead going for an imperious air. “Maybe I should be insisting the rest of you get time offworld,” he said. He shrugged on his brand new labcoat, the plain white fabric falling just far enough to conceal his weapon. “Suit up and let's go. Moonlight's burning.”

*****

They didn't get far.

To be fair, the city was as bright and active and bustling now as it was during the day. As far as San Francisco was concerned the night hadn't even begun.

Thus it was no surprise to anyone that they ended up under the pale lights of a 7-Eleven, rummaging through the aisles like a pack of eager raccoons.

Rodney cleared the entire display of chocolate cupcakes, piling them up at the register.

“You should watch sugar,” Zelenka warned. “Hypoglycemia is step towards diabetes.”

Rodney dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “Bah. How often do we get sugar? One week out of every six, seven? Besides, it's not like I don't exercise.”

Muffled laughter rose up from the Slurpee machine.

“Hey, running for my life is exercise,” Rodney defended. “How often do you run for your life? I think you should do it more often.”

Fitz 'eep'ed from the corner where he and Lee were mixing unique Slurpee combinations. Coconut, cherry, 'blue flavor', and 'tropical' all combined to make a strange striated red, white, and green that refused to mix.

“Ewww,” Pete said, nose wrinkled. “Lemme make one.”

“There's no citrus in there, right?” Rodney asked.

“Yes there is,” Lee warned, sniffing her concoction. “Stick to soda.”

Rodney pouted, at least until he found some cans that looked like plutonium canisters. “Oh, pretty...”

“Ugh, you know those things are completely artificial, right?” West warned as she saw Rodney plucking canisters of energy drink.

“That's how I know they're safe,” Rodney said, taking them to the counter.

“Fair enough,” West admitted.

The clerk wisely kept his mouth shut as these strange people in lab coats piled junk food high on his counter. He simply took their money and let them leave.

*****

Orange sodium lamps glowed eerily in the depth of night. The sky shone with reflected darkness, an oddly large number of stars shining despite the large size of the city in the valley.

The parking lot stood almost empty, a few cars dotting here and there. Near the building, half obscured in shadow, a large white van stood with all its doors open.

Noises came from those shadows, noises both familiar and foreign to those shadows.

“Hey, look at this great pipe.”

“That is a great pipe. What're you thinking of?”

“I need new copper piping for... reasons...”

“Come off it, Zelenka, you can admit it here. You need piping for your still.”

“Yes, yes, but I have other projects that are not alcohol.”

“Shock! Don't let the marines hear that.”

“Yes, they will mob your brewery.”

“Ooo, free computer monitors. Who throws these away?”

“Why do you have hundred feet of CAT5 cable?”

“Why not?”

“Do you think these hard drives are still good?”

“Success! I needed a new stereo.”

Suddenly the conversation stopped as a voice came from beyond the shadows. “Hey! You there! Stop what you're doing!”

“Load up,” Rodney snapped as he jumped into the driver's seat of the van. The engine started with a roar as the suspension dipped and the doors all closed. He gave a quick visual check, yes they were all there and yes there was a security guard running after them.

They drove off into the night.

*****

The university thrummed with midnight activity. The van sat open near the dorms, Radek and Pete keeping watch while the others combed the area. Radek yawned.

“I have stuff if you're tired,” Pete offered. He took out a brown glass bottle and shook it, revealing the rattle of pills.

“Not yet,” Radek said. “Am not fond of stim high.”

“Suit yourself,” Pete said, popping one in his hand. He swallowed it with a swig of gas station coffee.

“You know, you might sleep if you didn't stim,” Radek said conversationally.

Pete snorted. “Sleep is for the weak.”

“Hey!”

Radek and Pete glanced over at the two people coming towards them. They didn't look like security, not in those band t-shirts and dark jeans. They looked like students. “Yes?” Radek asked.

One of the students looked appreciatively at the stuff in the back of the van. “Hey, that's a great pipe.”

“Thank you. Industrial park near Apple complex.”

“Sweet. Say, how much for one of those computer monitors?”

Radek looked at the two old CRTs they'd salvaged. “Twenty dollars,” he offered. “If it doesn't work, come back and I give you the other one.”

“Deal.”

Money exchanged hands and the two students walked off with one of the CRTs.

By then the others were returning. Rodney carried an old printer, Hedgewick had a pile of discarded textbooks, Lee carried a small box of dishes, and Fitz had a potted plant.

“Hey, where's my monitor?” Hedgewick asked.

Radek handed him the twenty. “I sold it.”

From the shadows near the building he could see a student in a band t-shirt give him a 'thumbs up' gesture.

“Aww, I was gonna make something out of it.”

Radek patted Hedgewick. “There will be others.”

They piled into the van and after pouring a jug of vodka into the gas tank they were off again.

*****

The apartment complex slept as the van pulled up. The fence rattled as someone in a white labcoat jumped it and walked over to the main gate. That someone fiddled with the gate sensor and the gate slid open, allowing the van in.

Muttered, muffled voices spread out across the parking lot as Lee and Fitz stayed to watch the van. Their breath puffed in front of them, mist in the chill. Lee yawned then looked around. She prodded Fitz and pointed to the white shape next to the dumpster. They both grinned as they went over to look at it.

It was a chair, a big comfy chair. It wasn't ugly, it wasn't obviously stained, it didn't even smell weird. Lee flopped down in it, finding it to be as comfy as it looked. She nodded and let Fitz collapse into it. He nodded in silent agreement.

Together they lifted the chair and stuffed it into the back of the van. They were running out of room but it was worth it.

*****

The alley was empty, quiet.

And then it wasn't.

“GET OUT OF THE CAR!”

The shout took them all by surprise. It didn't even register in Rodney's mind that they were being carjacked. All that he knew was there was a gun held at his throat through the open driver's side window and a hand that wasn't his clutched his steering wheel.

Everything slowed down.

Rodney grabbed the slide of the handgun and yanked it forward, turning toward his attacker as his other hand reached down to the stunner in his thigh holster. He raised the stunner and fired, hitting his attacker in the face. The handgun jerked, the firing pin failing against the force of the slide pulled forward.

And then it was over.

And the screaming began.

“SHUT UP!” Rodney shouted at the cadre of terrified engineers.

Screaming faded to stunned silence and a few whimpers.

“Do prdele, what just happened?”

Rodney opened the van door and knocked the unconscious carjacker to the ground. He still held the slide of the handgun in one hand, the Wraith stunner in the other.

Only then did he start shaking. He shuddered, took a deep breath, and managed to avoid screaming as leaned against the side of the van. Breathe... Just breathe... Terror rose like bile that he tamped down. He let his eyes close and took one long breath, ignoring the panic in his chest. He holstered his stunner and pocketed the handgun. “Help me get this guy out of the road,” he called, voice deceptively steady.

Fitz and Lee sat back in the van, clutching each other and shivering. Hedgewick looked like he was trying not to hyperventilate. Pete took a long gulp of bad coffee to ease his nerves. Radek took a deep breath and got out of the van to help Rodney drag their would-be attacker to the side of the alley.

“Maybe you have not spent too much time off-world,” Radek admitted.

“Maybe I should have the whole lot of you put on gate rotation,” Rodney grumbled, huffing as they dragged the dead weight. “You all need off-world experience.”

“I believe this **is** off-world experience,” Radek muttered.

Rodney had to agree. Still... He pointed to the van, shouting to the people inside. “You're all getting off-world more often! I mean it.”

Soon the van was running again and they were gone, leaving a single unconscious guy lumped in the shadows.

*****

The diner was one of those 24 hour establishments. The hour belonged to the drunk, the stoned, and the desperate. The server was delighted to see a group that looked semi-respectable at this time of night.

Only semi-respectable.

The lot of them all wore lab coats with various types of fresh stains, marks, and streaks of metal rust. They all spoke with variations of the same strange accent, marking them as from out-of-town. The balding redhead wore some sort of prop gun strapped to his thigh but that wasn't too strange around here. After all, Oakland was right there.

From their talk they sounded like makers. Their conversation drifted from what they were going to do with salvaged junk, where they were going next, what they were planning to make, and of course how they were going to sneak this all past their bosses.

Yes, they definitely sounded like makers.

*****

The sky was fading from black-orange to grey-orange when they returned to the jumper. Rodney ignored the complete lack of roads, instead driving the van directly over the grass to park right next to their ride.

“Is a good thing we're leaving,” Radek said as they unloaded the van into the cloaked jumper. “They will impound van for this.”

“Bah, they can have it,” Hedgewick said dismissively.

“I dunno, it might be useful,” Pete admitted. “We can use it again.”

“Yeah well I don't have anywhere to keep it so...” Rodney trailed off even as he heard something. He looked around. “Move faster.”

“What's up?” Dr. Lee asked.

“I heard something.”

They loaded everything into the van with the exception of the alcohol. It was really not suitable for human consumption, too sharp-tasting to be used for anything other than fuel. The keys were left in the ignition.

The bushes rustled as the jumper lifted off, leaving behind a single wide-eyed man in the bushes. That man crept up to the van, noticed the keys and the bottles, and decided not to question his fortune.

*****

The gun was dropped into the bay as the jumper descended into the water, silently making its way toward the underwater bay. The doors opened gracefully and the jumper glided in, almost as though it knew they were trying to be discrete.

As the doors closed and the water began to cycle out, however, that discretion was shattered.

“Jumper five, this is Sheppard.”

“Shit!” Hedgewick swore and everyone jumped into the rear compartment with their ill-gotten goods. Everyone but Rodney who was stuck in the pilot's seat.

Rodney scowled at the lot of them. “You're all traitors,” he snapped. He made to press the comm button but couldn't do it. He reached for it again but instead groaned and hid behind his hands as though that would save them.

“Jumper five, answer me. Rodney, Zelenka, I know you're there.”

“Soulozit koza,” Radek muttered.

“Options?” Rodney asked.

“We've been caught and we'll all be sent back to Earth,” Lee lamented.

“We're **on** Earth,” Rodney snapped though it had no fire. He cleared his throat and finally pressed the button. When he spoke his voice sounded deceptively natural. “Sheppard, how are you?” Unfortunately his words did not.

“Rodney, what the hell are you doing?!” Sheppard demanded over the radio. “You steal a jumper, disappear for a day and a night, Zelenka's nowhere to be found so I assume he's there.”

“Ano, ano, jsem tady,” Radek said.

In their defense, the wordless exasperation coming through the radio was funny.

While Sheppard swore and threatened and was in general ignored the water level dropped to safe levels and Hedgewick opened the jumper. The engineers began picking through the stuff they'd found.

And then the doors to the jumper bay opened. Sheppard stopped halfway to the jumper when he saw all the stuff. “You stole a jumper, left without a flight plan, took half the engineering department... for a junk run?”

“Is good junk,” Radek defended.

“It's not like we were seen,” Rodney said. “Well, we ourselves were seen, we had to buy the van and coffee and we spent all day in daylight so of course we were seen then but the jumper stayed safe the whole time, nobody saw us leaving or coming or okay maybe this one homeless guy but we left him the van and there's still three gallons of vodka in the back so I'm sure he'll have forgotten about us by now or maybe dismissed us as a hallucination.”

Copper piping, wires, used electronics, a large CRT monitor, housewares, a stuffed lounge chair, a Japanese folding screen, five bottles of hot sauce, a can of instant coffee, a wooden bed frame, boxes of DVDs and CDs...

“Why?!” Sheppard asked. He gestured at the plethora of junk.

Hedgewick held up a bonsai tree he'd found in a dumpster. Lee picked up a framed painting she'd found. Fitz rolled a perfectly good tire out of the back of the jumper. West followed with a printer, wires trailing behind. Pete carried a Chinese war fan and a physics textbook.

“We're engineers,” Radek said as though that explained everything. And perhaps it did as Sheppard stared at the pile before walking away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the best stuff is found in a dumpster. The comfiest chairs, the prettiest art, the best frying pans, and of course the computer parts.


End file.
